BOOK IVAMERICA“IN FLANDERS FIELDS”Challenge of the Dead in BattleIn Flanders Fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThat larks still bravely singing fly,Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders Fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe!To you from falling hands we throwThe Torch—be yours to hold it high!If ye break faith with us who die,We shall not sleep though poppies growIn Flanders Fields.—Col. John McCrae.From the volume “In Flanders Fields,” copyright, 1919, by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Printed by permission.
“IN FLANDERS FIELDS”Challenge of the Dead in Battle
In Flanders Fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThat larks still bravely singing fly,Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders Fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe!To you from falling hands we throwThe Torch—be yours to hold it high!If ye break faith with us who die,We shall not sleep though poppies growIn Flanders Fields.
In Flanders Fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThat larks still bravely singing fly,Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders Fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe!To you from falling hands we throwThe Torch—be yours to hold it high!If ye break faith with us who die,We shall not sleep though poppies growIn Flanders Fields.
In Flanders Fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThat larks still bravely singing fly,Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders Fields.
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
That larks still bravely singing fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!To you from falling hands we throwThe Torch—be yours to hold it high!If ye break faith with us who die,We shall not sleep though poppies growIn Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from falling hands we throw
The Torch—be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.
—Col. John McCrae.
From the volume “In Flanders Fields,” copyright, 1919, by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Printed by permission.
From the volume “In Flanders Fields,” copyright, 1919, by G. P. Putnam’s Sons. Printed by permission.